


the heart has already decided, the mind must catch up

by Lightebonydarkivory



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Belonging, Dubious Consent, Episode: s02e09 The Choice, Family, Friendship, M/M, Pre-Athelstan/Ragnar Lothbrok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1551365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightebonydarkivory/pseuds/Lightebonydarkivory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Ragnar asks him to go with him, Athelstan must make a choice. King Ecbert does his best to sway Athelstan with fantastic sex to stay in Wessex.</p>
<p>Takes place the night after Ragnar tells Athelstan he doesn't want him to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the heart has already decided, the mind must catch up

**Author's Note:**

> The dubious consent refers to Athelstan never actually consenting to have sex with Ecbert, though he never flat out refuses either. I didn't think it needed a noncon rating, but please let me know if you think otherwise and I'll change it.

Athelstan closed the door to his chambers and knelt down to perform his last prayers for the night. Again, he prayed for Ragnar and for King Ecbert. He begged God for help making the decision he knew he had to make tonight. Ragnar’s plea echoed in his ears. The feel of Ragnar’s hand on his thigh still burned under his clothes. His beseeching eyes seemed to haunt Athelstan’s vision.

Shaking his head to dispel the sight, Athelstan rose to his feet and walked to the small table beside his bed. Carefully Athelstan slid the ring gifted to him by King Ecbert from his finger and set in down on the table. Then, he lifted the cross from round his neck and laid it reverently beside the ring. Athelstan caressed the cross with his thumb and brooded on the luxury of the jewelry. The cross was clear evidence of his still present loyalty to his old religion, and the ring was evidence of King Ecbert’s affection for him. He was reluctant to part with either one of them, yet…

Athelstan’s fingers finally released the cross and travelled to his wrist where his arm ring still sat. It had not once crossed his mind to take off the arm ring. Ragnar had put it there, and Athelstan had no desire to remove it. On his hand too, Athelstan could still feel Ragnar’s touch. The suspicious look on Ragnar’s face when he saw the scar on his palm was not one Athelstan could forget. Ragnar was no fool. Athelstan had told him enough about Christ’s death to know that Ragnar would guess what had happened to him. He would wonder why Athelstan had any loyalty to the people who had put him through such agony.

But King Ecbert saved him, Athelstan reminded himself. He had nursed him back to health and, better yet, gave him a purpose. Athelstan had thrilled at the chance to work on such ancient parchments. He was truly grateful to King Ecbert for allowing him access to such priceless artifacts. Athelstan had learned nearly as much from the pagan Romans as he had from Ragnar’s people. Though he had had no way of knowing whether he would ever see Ragnar again, he felt closer to Ragnar when he was in that secret room. In that room of pagan treasures, Athelstan felt justified that he was so enamored with Ragnar’s customs and gods. If there was value in Roman knowledge, then there must be value in Viking knowledge!

Athelstan turned from the table and crossed the room to where his night clothes lay. He untied his belt and let the robe slip from his shoulders. The robe was very comfortable. It had been fitted to his size and was made with very fine material. The night clothes Athelstan pulled on were even more pleasant to have against his skin. Athelstan was unused to clothes so luxurious. In Kattegat, Athelstan had worn Ragnar’s old cast-offs. They were much too large for him, and the material was coarse. But unlike with the robes, which Athelstan thought somehow fit ill on him, as if he was only playing at being a true man of God, and the night clothes, which were far more expensive than any clothing Athelstan had ever owned and therefore made Athelstan look like a different person wearing them, Athelstan had felt at ease in Ragnar’s clothing. There was a sense of family and belonging in wearing someone else’s clothes. Of course, the fact that the clothes still smelt like Ragnar when they were first gifted to Athelstan was an additional benefit.

Athelstan sharply pulled away from that line of thought before the implications of that set in and in doing so realized that, despite trying to focus on the positives of living as King Ecbert’s subject, Athelstan’s mind can’t help but dwell Ragnar.

As Athelstan folded his robes to ready them for tomorrow, he forced himself to consider the negative aspects of returning to Ragnar. That was easy enough; King Horik’s insults still chafed. Athelstan would have been well within his rights as a free man to throw an axe at him for his words. Floki’s attitude hadn’t improved. Cleary distance hasn’t made his heart any fonder of Athelstan. Returning to Kattegat would mean having to constantly watch his back. Even with only a few minutes exposure to the Viking’s camp, Athelstan could tell that tensions were running high. Again, Athelstan would have to carefully navigate the politics of the pagans and guard against any action that could damage Ragnar’s reputation. Ragnar had continuously stuck his neck out for him, and Athelstan would have to live with the pressure that entails. And just because he would be under Ragnar’s protection does not mean Athelstan would be safe.

Protection, at least, was more secure here. No one would dare touch him as long as he was under King Ecbert’s protection. Athelstan was sure that safety would last as long as he was useful to the king. The remembered threat of what would happen to Athelstan should he let slip just what he was doing in the secret room brought with it a flash of fear but mostly annoyance. The threat wasn’t necessary. Athelstan would have gladly kept King Ecbert’s confidence on the strength of his gratitude alone, much less his emerging affection – for Athelstan did care for the king who had saved him from a horrible fate. He had even started to grow fond of Aethelwulf, with whom he had a sort of antagonistic friendship brewing. Of course, should King Ecbert suddenly withdraw his protection, Athelstan knew Aethelwulf would eagerly see him up on that cross once more as would many of the royal court. However, given a few more years of faithful service to the king, Athelstan was sure he could gain Athelwulf’s affection. After all, didn’t he gain the love of a boy who at first wanted to kill him?

Oh, Bjorn certainty had grown over the years. Athelstan had recognized him the instant he saw him. He had the look of his mother in his bearing; the strength of his father in his wide chest. Bjorn’s open affection was his father’s all over, but his guarded eyes were his mother’s. No, Athelstan could not have mistaken Bjorn for anyone else’s son. He had nearly spilt tears at the open declaration of love from the boy he hadn’t seen in nearly five years. And Lagertha? Just as beautiful and fierce as she ever was. She had always been far more stoic and distant then Ragnar and Bjorn. But Athelstan could feel her continued regard for him in the way her eyes swept his body, categorizing every physical feature and searching for any evidence of foul play. Athelstan wondered how much he gave away to those keen eyes. He also felt her trust in him in the way she kept the conversation focused on business when it nearly devolved into aspersions on Athelstan’s character and in the way she instantly agreed to meet King Ecbert on the strength of Athelstan’s word alone. If Bjorn and Lagertha had reacted to Athelstan with the same hate Rollo had, Athelstan could never have brought himself to even consider Ragnar’s plea.

Ragnar’s affection alone is enough to tempt him into leaving the land of his people and his God. The way Ragnar had smiled at him nearly stopped his heart. It was as if nothing had changed, but Athelstan knew everything had changed. Athelstan could see it in the desperate look in Ragnar’s eyes – a look that had never once been directed at Athelstan. Athelstan could feel it in the tight grip of Ragnar’s arm across his shoulders and his hand on his thigh. As if Athelstan would disappear forever should Ragnar let go. As if Ragnar had to touch him to make sure he’s real. That Ragnar let him go despite his clear reluctance showed his care for him. Ragnar allowed him to make his own choice, even though it must have killed him to watch Athelstan again choose to leave him…

Irritably, Athelstan realized that his mind was dwelling on Ragnar again, and he turned from the folded clothes he’d been staring at for the past few minutes and moved to lay on his bed. This bed at least was comfort he would not find in Kattegat. It is the softest surface Athelstan had ever lain on. Though to be fair, Athelstan’s chambers always seemed a little too cold and quiet after the warmth and noise of Kattegat. The fires in the hearths and the thick furs kept all the heat in, and the rowdy voices of the men and women still feasting lasted long after Athelstan would take to his bed. In the winter, things were even cozier. Ragnar would not take no for an answer in inviting Athelstan to his bed. The freezing cold of the dead of winter was easy to guard against with the heat of Ragnar’s body all along his back.

Athelstan groaned in frustration at himself. It seemed that he can’t think about anything without his thoughts leading to Ragnar. He pushed his face into his pillow as if by smothering himself he can muffle all contemplation of a certain charismatic warrior. Athelstan recognized that he wasn’t truly annoyed at the struggle in his soul, but at the fact that there was no struggle. Athelstan kept trying to have a debate with himself, but it seemed that the debate has already been won – perhaps the moment Ragnar put his hand on Athelstan’s thigh and asked. Or perhaps even earlier, when Athelstan laid eyes on Ragnar for the first time in months. Or perhaps it was the moment Athelstan heard that Ragnar had returned to Wessex; or maybe even earlier, when Athelstan was watching Ragnar sail away. Athelstan would not think it a lie to say that the decision was made the moment Ragnar dropped the rope around Athelstan’s neck and told him he could follow if he wanted. Athelstan was annoyed because despite all the luxuries given to him here, despite the intellectually stimulating work allowed him, and despite the favor of a king who understands the careful balance between following God and acknowledging the value in pagan beliefs, Athelstan wants nothing more than to leave all this behind and rejoin Ragnar.

Decision not so much made as being finally acknowledged, Athelstan settled in to sleep for a few hours. He would have to sneak out a few hours before dawn to get to the Viking camp before they sail away. Just as Athelstan closed his eyes for the night, a knock sounded at the door. Athelstan rose from his bed warily. Who would be knocking at this time of night?

Athelstan took a steading breath and opened the door. Shockingly, King Ecbert stood on the other side. King Ecbert never visited him at his chambers. Normally, he would visit Athelstan in the Roman scroll room to have the manuscripts read aloud to him or to simply watch Athelstan meticulously transcribe onto new parchment the wisdom of the old. Some days, Athelstan can hear him coming, his thundering steps due warning that the king is in a towering temper. King Ecbert would stride into the room and take up a position behind Athelstan, leaning against the wall. Then, the king would watch Athelstan delicately move the brush across the parchment until the tension had eased from his shoulders and the lines of frustration had faded from his face. No words were spoken, but King Ecbert would leave seeming more relaxed. Athelstan assumed that someone or something at court had irritated him and he needed the peace of the secret room to center his equilibrium. Athelstan was proud to be able to provide such a service to the king, but he was always relieved when Ecbert finally left without touching him.

Because there were some days when Ecbert would enter the room quietly, and Athelstan would not realize he was there. He would work on copying a parchment, head down in silence, until he looked up and shockingly found himself under the hungry gaze of the king. His body would freeze when he locked eyes with King Ecbert. Athelstan was sure that he looked much like a deer trapped by a wolf in those moments. Once he had Athelstan’s attention, he would stalk closer, until he was behind him and would start mouthing at the juncture of Athelstan’s shoulder and neck before pulling him off the stool and to the ground.

Athelstan found it bitterly ironic that he was allowed to keep his Christian chastity in a pagan society that highly valued sex, but as soon as he return to Christian lands, he had his chastity taken from him by a Christian King. Not that Athelstan fought against King Ecbert’s advances. He felt that he owed it to the man who saved him from the cross, gave him an intellectually thrilling purpose, promised him protection, and treated him with such kindness and care. Besides Ecbert is the king and Athelstan is now his subject; he is King Ecbert’s property to do with as he pleases. Athelstan saw the irony there too, that Athelstan’s first choice for the first time in years as a free man led him to a new form of slavery.

If he did not visit Athelstan during the day, King Ecbert would, on rare occasions, send his manservant to call Athelstan to the king’s chambers and take his pleasure there.  Athelstan almost preferred that because he was allowed to sleep for a few hours on the king’s massive and luxurious mattress, before having to sneak away.

King Ecbert never visited Athelstan in his chambers. Athelstan assumed that had to do with the fact that though his bed is the softest one Athelstan had ever owned it is far less comfortable than the king’s own bed. It also likely had something to do with the amount of foot-traffic in the corridor outside his room in comparison to outside the king’s room. Besides the guards, who are sworn by pain of death to keep their silence, and his personal manservant, the corridor outside King Ecbert’s chambers are silent and unpopulated once the sun went down. Athelstan’s chambers are situated in the servant wing of the castle and are therefore nearly always busy, even at the dead of night it would not be unusual to see someone still walking the halls. And servants are a gossiping sort. Should the king be seen coming and going too often from Athelstan’s chambers, tongues would wag about Ecbert sexual proclivities.

All of this explains why Athelstan was staring dumbfounded at the sight of King Ecbert illumined by the light of the torches in the corridor.

“Are you going to invite me in? Or are you just going to make your king stand out in the draft?”

Athelstan jerked back to awareness and moved to the side out of the way as he bowed the king into his chambers. Thankfully, Ecbert didn’t sound annoyed at his lack of etiquette. He seemed more graciously amused at Athelstan’s fumbling.

“My Lord, what can I do for you?” Athelstan said, warily watching King Ecbert cast a mildly curious stare at the small chamber that served as Athelstan’s home for the past few months. He shut the door, and when he turned back, Ecbert was right in front of him.

His hands pressed against the door beside Athelstan’s head. Ecbert leaned in and said, “I think you know what you can do for me.” Ecbert’s lips brushed his ear, and the shock of the touch sent a shiver through Athelstan.

“My, my lord –” Athelstan cut himself off with a shuttering breath when Ecbert flicked his tongue against his ear. Ecbert dragged his lips down his jaw, nibbling every so often and forcing a shudder from Athelstan at each bite. Ecbert pulled Athelstan closer to him, away from the door and started backing them toward the bed. Reaching the edge, the king regally reclined across the bed before pulling the befuddled Athelstan down on top of him. Finally, Ecbert’s mouth joined Athelstan’s.

Ecbert was an incredibly good kisser. While Athelstan wasn’t always aroused the whole time Ecbert slaked his pleasure, the few times Ecbert granted Athelstan a kiss was enough to keep him looking forward to the next one. Ecbert kissed like he knew Athelstan’s mouth better than his own. His tongue seemed to find all the places where the most sensation could be drawn and teased out pleasure until Athelstan couldn’t breathe. When Ecbert kissed him, Athelstan lost all track of time or place. Athelstan drowned in the feeling of being in an empty void. Where there was no worry about religion or loyalty, no obligation to please, and no visions to torment him. There is only pleasure and a feeling of closeness to the man who had given him so much and for whom he had come to care. It was only when he kissed Athelstan that Ecbert paid any attention to his enjoyment. The intimacy of their lips pressing and their tongues undulating together gave Athelstan the feeling of being a person to Ecbert and not just a convenient body there for his satisfaction.

But the moment, as always, came to an end when Ecbert rolled until he was on top of Athelstan and pulled his head away. Athelstan was already breathing harshly, though Ecbert seemed hardly ruffled. Athelstan raised his hand toward Ecbert’s belt, expecting at this point to be put to work on pleasing him. But Ecbert grabbed his wrist before it reached its destination (Athelstan spared a moment to be thankful he had not raised the hand with the arm ring) and instead pressed it into the mattress at his side.  Confused, Athelstan could only stare as Ecbert lifted up the hem of his night shirt and slowly started to kiss up his chest. Athelstan’s breath, which had begun to quiet again to normal levels, sped up until the sound of his exhalations filled his small room. When Ecbert’s mouth reached his nipple, Athelstan gasped and then moaned when his tongue flicked out to trace the small nub.

Athelstan watched in stunned disbelief as Ecbert moved from one nipple to the next. The king had never wasted time on foreplay before, at least not for Athelstan. He would normally make use of Athelstan’s hands or mouth or make the preparations necessary to take him. This had never brought Athelstan any sort of pleasure. Athelstan never knew whether to be grateful for that. If he didn’t take any pleasure in the act was the sin as egregious? Was it better to keep the emotional distance that being used as property afforded him? Athelstan had tried to look at the perfunctory and business-like aspects of what Athelstan had always assumed would be an intimate act as positives to his situation. It kept Athelstan from getting too attached and sinning even more than he already has.

Now, it seemed, Ecbert was taking that comfort from him as he kissed a trail back down Athelstan’s body and pushed his pants down until his cock was revealed. To Athelstan’s shame, it had taken an interest in this new preceding and was already at half-mast. Athelstan tensed as Ecbert’s mouth hovered over his rising flesh. Athelstan choked on an inhale as Ecbert took him in hand and then moaned loudly as he was swallowed down. Athelstan couldn’t understand what was happening. Why would Ecbert lower himself in this way? Ecbert swirled his tongue around the head and Athelstan could think no more. He closed his eyes and was back in the void, and this time Ecbert was not just sharing the void with him but surrounding Athelstan completely.

Athelstan was totally consumed by the nothingness until all he could feel was the warmth of Ecbert’s mouth, and all he could hear was the high-pitched whines that some distant part of Athelstan realized must have been coming from him. The rush of blood downward abandoned Athelstan to feeling unmoored as if he were floating on a boat left to the direction of the currents and tides. Athelstan kept his eyes closed, certain that seeing the surreal sight before him would shock him out of the pleasant void.

Suddenly, his cock was released, and Ecbert’s lips dragged down to gently pull one of his balls into his mouth. Athelstan’s resulting groan came from deep in his chest as Ecbert swiped the broad side of his tongue over the sensitive flesh. Shocks of pleasure stole down Athelstan’s legs and his toes curled. Athelstan had never felt such ecstasy and he shook in dazed confusion at the ferocity of it.

Ecbert dragged his hands up Athelstan’s thighs and pushed his legs apart. Athelstan hadn’t even noticed Ecbert remove his bottoms. And now that Athelstan was paying attention again, he opened his eyes just long enough to see that at some point Ecbert had removed his own clothes and was kneeling naked over Athelstan’s lower body. Ecbert lowered his head to Athelstan’s now fully engorged erection and took it once more into his mouth. Athelstan closed his eyes in shear bliss and almost didn’t notice the slick finger caressing his entrance.

Athelstan tensed at first at the feeling, but by this point his body was used to being regularly taken, and Ecbert was doing a good job of distracting him. The first finger entered him easily once he relaxed. The second one was not too big a trouble to accept either, but when he felt a third probe at his entrance Athelstan could not help but freeze. Ecbert had only ever used two before, stretching him just enough to keep Athelstan from feeling any pain. Athelstan had never understood how other men took such pleasure in being taken. Sex, once Athelstan had finally been introduced to it, had seemed a little too hot, too sweaty, too vaguely uncomfortable for him to see much value in it. Athelstan had honestly been a little disappointed. He could not forget the promises held in Ragnar’s heated eyes.

But Athelstan refused to think of him here. He kept thoughts of Ragnar as far from him as possible when he was with Ecbert in this way. The third finger, finally done teasing at his rim, drove any further thought from his mind. The burn of it entering him put an edge of pain to the pleasure of Ecbert’s mouth. Athelstan felt wound tight and could not seem to draw breath. Ecbert’s tongue probed the slit of Athelstan’s cock, and the stimulation drew all the wind from his lungs until Athelstan could do nothing but inhale a great gulp of air, nearly sobbing with the violence of it.

Athelstan had thought he was at the very brink, overwhelmed by the pleasure he was feeling until Ecbert thrust his fingers and brushed against something inside him that proved there was a more intense pleasure to be experienced. Lightning sparked to every nerve in Athelstan’s body. He screamed and thrust upward, following the sensation and consequently shoving his cock deeper into the king’s mouth.

Athelstan froze in horror. He had been careful to keep still, fearful of Ecbert’s anger and of his mouth being withdrawn. He quickly opened his eyes and mouth to send a pleading look and desperate apology to King Ecbert, but the sight before him stole all words from his mouth.

The sight of Ecbert’s naked body over his own, the sight of his lips stretched over his cock, the sight of his hand between his thighs, Athelstan could not imagine anything so obscene. But what had truly frozen his tongue was the fact that Ecbert’s eyes were fixed on his face. While Athelstan had hidden behind his eyelids and buried himself in the void, Ecbert had been right in the present moment, focused wholly and completely on him. And he didn’t look angry or reproachful, but hungry.

 With Athelstan now captured by Ecbert’s gaze, the king pressed his fingers again against that spot and took it when Athelstan rose the pleasure up further into his mouth. Athelstan couldn’t mistake Ecbert’s intent; so when Ecbert set up a rhythm with his fingers, Athelstan didn’t fight the urge to move bet let himself go completely, thrusting forward into that slick heat and then back onto his fingers. As the pleasure rose so did Athelstan’s groans and whimpers, until the noise leaving him made it seem as though he was dying. And Athelstan felt like he was dying, for surely no one could feel something so intense and survive.

Ecbert’s eyes ensnared Athelstan, and he could not help but look deep into them. The intimacy of it only blew his ecstasy higher. With those probing eyes locked on his, Athelstan’s thoughts lost coherency until the pleasure inside him removed knowledge of everything but those eyes. Those eyes seemed to pierce deep within him, into his soul, mesmerizing him. Until those eyes were all there was. And those eyes were everything. There was nothing but those eyes. But those eyes were the wrong color. They were everywhere, but they were not the right color. These were not the right eyes. Why are these eyes wrong?

Those wrong-colored eyes were suddenly much closer, and his wet cock was left to the cool air as lips were quickly, bruisingly pressed to his. The lips pulled away and shaped one word, “Athelstan.”

That voice was not the voice he was expecting, and Athelstan gasped at the feeling of vertigo as he was abruptly returned to the here and now. He was with King Ecbert. He was in Wessex. He was in a Christian land doing a most un-Christian thing. He floundered as his mind tried to catch up with the sensory over-load his body had been feeling.

“Athelstan,” King Ecbert said again, and his voice had never sounded so rough to Athelstan. Did he cause that? “Athelstan, are you with me?”

“Yes,” he managed. “Yes, my lord.”

“My name. Say my name, Athelstan.” King Ecbert sounded just as out of breath and desperate as Athelstan, no longer as unruffled as he was in the beginning.

“Ecbert,” he breathed shakily, the name feeling too small on his tongue. It was enough for Ecbert who ground his hips down onto Athelstan’s. His cock brushed against Athelstan’s, and they groaned together at the feeling. Athelstan had seen and felt Ecbert’s cock before but never in this context. The sensation threatened to bring him under again.

“Does that feel good?” Ecbert’s voice brought Athelstan back from the brink again, until he twisted the fingers still inside him, and Athelstan surged up against the hard body on top him. “Are you well pleased?” His fingers thrust again, and Athelstan was slowly being driven mad. The fingers stopped their relentless motion, and Athelstan nearly cried in frustration. He realized Ecbert was waiting for an answer.

“Yes! Yes, sire, Ecbert. Please. Please!” The fingers were suddenly gone, and Athelstan was left horribly, gapingly empty. His hands whipped up from the bed where Ecbert had put them and gripped wildly on Ecbert’s back. “Ecbert,” he begged.

“Shhh,” Ecbert said and pressed his lips to Athelstan’s as a distraction. But Athelstan still felt empty and could not focus his full attention on Ecbert’s kiss, so he noticed immediately when a much bigger force probed at his entrance. Athelstan froze in hesitation. Ecbert had never taken him face to face before, and Athelstan was unsure if this position would be better or worse. Furthermore, Athelstan had been enjoying himself up ‘til now, and he really didn’t want this newfound pleasure ruined. He was consumed by doubt until Ecbert’s slick hand gripped his erection. Ecbert must have brought some oil along with him, though Athelstan had been too distracted to notice until now. The feeling of warmth and pressure again at his cock relaxed Athelstan enough to let Ecbert inside a few inches.

Athelstan marveled at how easy it was for Ecbert to enter him. His body had always resisted the intrusion before. It had accepted the invader eventually, but it was always reluctant. Now, his body welcomed the thick cock. He had needed something to ease the emptiness, and he was so full now. The cock bore down further into him, driving out all thoughts from his mind until nothing was left but the relentless pressure. The cock kept pressing and pressing until it was fully seated inside him.

“Athelstan.” The voice brought Athelstan away from the feeling of fullness, a feeling that normally made Athelstan feel uncomfortable, but now satisfied a deep ache within him. “Look at me,” the voice ordered. Athelstan opened his eyes and was confronted with a strange face. “There you are,” Ecbert purred and had a pleased, fond look in his eyes. “How do you feel?”

“Good, sire, very good.” Ecbert quirked an eyebrow. “Ecbert,” Athelstan quickly corrected.

With the correct answer given, Ecbert slipped his hands under Athelstan’s buttocks and lifted him into the air. He grabbed the pillow behind Athelstan’s head and rested his hips on it. Then, he thrust. The new angle sent Ecbert’s cock right for that sweet spot inside him, and Athelstan’s whole body lit up with pleasure. “Ecbert,” he gasped in surprise. A groan came from above him and suddenly that cock was slamming into him. Athelstan had never felt anything like it. The fingers had brushed something that sent pleasure to his every nerve; the cock rammed against it. Athelstan felt like his body was on fire, that he was burning up and would soon disappear. He knew now why some men sought this out, but he needed something more. Athelstan pulled one hand from Ecbert’s back and reached for his cock, but was slapped away.

“No!” Ecbert punctuated the statement with a brutal thrust. “Your pleasure is mine to give.”

“Please! Ecbert, I need, I need –”

“I know what you need.” His hips never once stopped moving. “Tell me. Tell me you’re pleased.”

“Yes! Yes, Ecbert, please.” He rolled up his hips to try and gain some friction on Ecbert’s body but was denied by a particularly vicious thrust.

“Tell me you’re happy here,” Ecbert said relentlessly.

“Yes, Ecbert!” Athelstan was truly crying now, his desperation having reached his limits. “I am well content. I am grateful for what I have been given.” Ecbert leaned down and kissed him. It was not what Athelstan had wanted, but it was good to feel a hard body all against his own. It reminded him of someone else walking him from camp with an arm across his shoulders and the hard line of his body pressed against Athelstan’s side, but he was not thinking about that.

“You know I care for you, do you not?” Ecbert broke from the kiss. “You know you are dear to me.”

“Yes, yes.” Ecbert did not draw his body away, and this was good, though another body roared large in Athelstan’s conscience.

“Do you care for me?”

Athelstan roughly pulled himself away from the road his mind had gone down and focused on the man on top him. “Yes, Ecbert. I care for you. You are very dear to me.” Athelstan forced himself to gaze into eyes that are the wrong color – for this was important and not a lie. Athelstan had truly grown to care for Ecbert and wanted him to know this.

Ecbert finally seemed satisfied. He thrust even quicker into Athelstan. The pleasure grew for them both higher and higher, but still Athelstan needed something more to fall over that precipice. “Please Ecbert!” Athelstan cried, knowing he would not allow Athelstan to reach that threshold himself.

“Tell me! Tell me again,” Ecbert said, sounding just as crazed as Athelstan.

“I care, I care. I do, I do. _Please!_ ” Ecbert’s hand reached between their bodies and finally found his cock. His other hand gripped Athelstan’s thigh tightly. His own eyes seemed to have a plea when they looked into Athelstan’s eyes. But it was a different hand Athelstan thought about and a different plea Athelstan answered in his heart.

“Tell me you’ll stay.”

But Athelstan was too far gone and could only cry one more time, “Please.” And he was there, at the knife edge and falling, over and over, down and down, emptying of everything. The pleasure crested and obliterated everything, and Athelstan was left in blackness.

When Athelstan came back to himself, the candles around his chambers had burned low. King Ecbert was surprisingly asleep next to him. His arm gripped Athelstan tightly to his side. Athelstan understood now why Ecbert had visited him here, why he focused so strongly on Athelstan’s pleasure over his own (though the wetness between his thighs bore evidence to King Ecbert reaching his own climax), and why he was willing to sleep on a mattress so subpar of what he was used to.

Ecbert knew Athelstan was considering returning to the pagans and was doing his best to convince him otherwise. Unfortunately for him, his plan backfired. Athelstan was willing to admit to himself that he had thought about Ragnar the whole time he was with Ecbert. He had had his first ever orgasm at the hand of someone else, and it had given him a wrong feeling. Not the shameful, dirty feeling he felt the other times Ecbert used him, when he knew that he was being forced to sin and was unable to keep himself from sinning again. No, the wrongness came from deriving pleasure from the wrong person. And though Athelstan had found physical gratification, emotionally he was unsatisfied. Though Athelstan had made the decision before King Ecbert’s visit, now his choice had cemented. Athelstan did not belong here; he must leave.

Following through with the decision brought another challenge. King Ecbert was holding tightly to him, and he would surely wake if Athelstan attempted to leave. He pondered this problem for a moment before noticing that the pillow Ecbert had grabbed to aid in their intercourse still rested underneath his hips. Carefully, Athelstan pulled the pillow out from under him and used it to create a barrier between their two bodies. Athelstan slowly eased away from King Ecbert’s arm and encouraged it to grip the pillow instead. Finally, Athelstan was free. He quietly rose from the bed and dressed in his robes. He paused at the door and turned to look one last time at King Ecbert. He had taken him in and given him a purpose. He had saved him and treated him with fondness. For that, Athelstan would always be grateful, but it wasn’t enough for him to stay. Athelstan left the room and closed the door softly behind him.

Athelstan moved swiftly down the corridors, hiding behind doors and tapestries every time a guard would pass by. He did not think he would be stopped, but he didn’t have time waste being questioned on his business in this wing of the castle. Athelstan was not, as would be prudent, heading straight for the outdoors. Instead, he was heading to see the Roman scroll room one last time.

He reached the chamber without incident and looked once more with mournful awe at the vast amounts of knowledge all around him. He felt sorry to be leaving the scrolls alone again, but he comforted himself. King Ecbert would not allow Athelstan’s absence keep him from these treasures. He’d find someone else to transcribe the scrolls. While Athelstan believed King Ecbert’s assertion that he was valued, he was not naïve enough to think he’s irreplaceable.

Athelstan hoped that he was choosing the right path. Ever since Athelstan had returned to England he had been plagued by nightmarish visions. Perhaps it is a sign that Athelstan was meant to be with the Pagans, meant to be with Ragnar.

Athelstan startled when he realized he was gripping the cross around his neck. He had not realized he had worn his jewelry. He must have put them on through sheer force of habit when he was dressing. He carefully pulled the ring from his finger and the cross from his neck. He placed them on the parchment he had recently completed. King Ecbert would find them there in the morning and know what it meant. Athelstan turned his back on the room and left. He had said his last good-bye. There was no reason to linger.

Athelstan snuck from the castle and through the surrounding village easily and set off down the path to the Viking encampment. He felt sore from the vigorous activities of the night, but he refused to slow down. He also felt sticky and filthy and wished he had had time to wash before setting out. He felt wrong returning to his old family, especially Ragnar, with the clothes of the priesthood and another man’s essence on his skin, but there was no helping it. Ragnar was unlikely to notice anyway.

Ragnar had stopped inviting Athelstan to his bed years ago. He wasn’t sure if it was simply because Ragnar had grown tired of being rejected and assumed Athelstan would know the option remained open or whether he had just lost interest in having Athelstan in that way. Athelstan knew that if Ragnar asked his answer would be different than it had been just a few months ago, but Ragnar might never ask. Athelstan knew that he might never be bold enough to approach Ragnar. Besides Athelstan was getting ahead of himself, he needed to first figure out whether anything had changed between them in the months they’ve been apart. It hadn’t seemed that way the two times they met, but what did that really mean anyway? That they were still friends? Family? Something more? The grip of Ragnar’s hand at his thigh had not faded with time. Athelstan could only hope it was indicative of Ragnar’s feelings for him.

In any case, Athelstan shouldn’t let himself be distracted. King Horik had thrown insults on his character, and it is clear that his alliance with Ragnar is not as solid as it once was. Floki has clearly not changed his mind about Athelstan, so he must be mindful of that. Athelstan still doesn’t know the reason behind Lagertha and Bjorn’s presence there or for that matter Rollo’s. There is much that Athelstan has missed. He has a lot of politics to catch up on, and he needs to figure out his own place as a member of Ragnar’s household. Athelstan can’t think of Ragnar in such a carnal way right now. Trying to alter the dimensions of their already shaky relationship would only complicate things further, and he did not want to ruin what they already had.

Despite himself, Athelstan continued to contemplate his relationship with Ragnar for the next two hours until he reached the edge of the forest just before the Viking camp. The sky had been gradually getting lighter as he walked, and the sun’s rays were just peaking over the hills. The Viking camp was a riot of movement as tents were torn down and campfires put out. Bags were being packed and the boats were being loaded.

Athelstan stepped from the line of trees and made his way down to the camp. He was spotted before he reached it of course, and once again the news quickly spread that Athelstan had returned. Bjorn was the first to greet him.

“Athelstan! You came back!” Athelstan opened his mouth to shyly ask whether he was still welcome, but before he could, Bjorn swept him into a crushing bear hug. “I am glad.” And Athelstan supposed that answered that question.

Lagertha was next to greet him. She gripped his forearms and simply said, “It is good that you are here.” And Athelstan felt something settle deep in his bones. She always was a grounding presence. Her approval was the bedrock on which everything else could be built.

Athelstan scanned the crowd for the face he most wanted to see, accepting the pat on the back from Torstein and the others who never hated him and ignoring the look of scorn from Floki and the look of disgust from King Horik. Finally, he saw him leaning against one of the few posts still standing. The smile he wore was unmistakably fond.

He stepped forward and said, “Enough, leave Athelstan alone. We have work to do.” Those who had gathered around Athelstan, now that their curiosity has been sated and the excitement has passed, followed his command. The sound of his voice chipped away at the wrongness still clinging to Athelstan. This was the voice Athelstan was supposed to hear. Ragnar gave no indication of following his own order. Instead, he stepped right in front of Athelstan, gripped the back of his neck, and pulled him forward until their foreheads pressed together. “I was afraid you would not come,” he said quietly. His eyes bore into Athelstan and the wrongness further fades away. These eyes are the right color.

“You should not have been.”

“Should I not?” Ragnar asked, still not moving away. This was fine. This body was the right body to touch him.

“No,” Athelstan said. “I made the decision before I left. I just needed to figure that out.” Athelstan felt strangely amused at himself.

Ragnar shared his amusement if his mischievous smirk is any indication. “Well, I am glad you figured it out _before_ we sailed away from England without you. Now, come. We need to get you out of those robes and into something a little less conspicuous.” Ragnar threaded and arm across Athelstan’s shoulders and started pulling him way, making sure to keep Athelstan tight against his body. Athelstan wondered if even now Ragnar thought that Athelstan might change his mind and sprint back to the castle. He needn’t worry. Everything about this man and these people (yes, even Floki) felt right to Athelstan. This was where he belonged.


End file.
